The Angel of Music
by Midnight Rain1
Summary: A sequel to The Enchanter. (Although it is not necessary to have read the previous story.) Erik and Christine are reunited at the Paris Opera, having met when Christine was just a child.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Yes, here it is. A sequel to The Enchanter. You guys asked for it and here it is! 

For anyone who did not read The Enchanter, or if you read it so long ago you don't remember what happened… Basically, Christine is a child performing at a fair with her father. She wanders away and stumbles upon Erik the Enchanter's performance. His mask is torn away at the end, but she turns at that second and does not see his face. She smiles at Erik and gives him a coin and he can not believe that a child could see past his face so easily…

By popular demand, the reunion at the Paris Opera. Hopefully it won't be too terrible….

Enjoy! :)

Christine Daae left the auditorium of the Palais Garnier thoroughly exhausted. She had every intention of going back to her small flat and collapsing onto her bed, with no thought of getting up again. She had not slept the night before and that day Madame Giry had pushed them harder than she could ever remember being pushed before. She knew that the gala performance was in a week's time, but even someone as unimportant as a member of the corps de ballet needed to rest at times. 

She leaned against the doors for a moment, simply because she couldn't bear to start the trek back to her small dressing room just yet. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and brushed the hair that had come loose from her bun out of her face.

"Christine!" 

Christine turned her head and saw Meg Giry poking her head out of the door to the auditorium. Meg smiled and took Christine's hand, forcing her to stand up without the aid of the door at her back.

"Oh Christine, follow me, will you?" Meg asked, excitement in her voice.

Christine stared at Meg incredulously. She was always so bursting with energy, even after having spent an entire day at rehearsal. 

Meg began to pull her back into the theatre, but Christine stopped her. "Wait, what are we doing?"

"Just come with me," Meg insisted.

Christine sighed tiredly, but obliged and allowed Meg to pull her inside.

"Look!" Meg exclaimed. "Empty! Nearly everyone has gone home, the stagehands are having their break, and they have left the lights on! Come on!" 

The excited ballerina pulled her friend down the long aisle and down to the stage. Christine collapsed into a chair in the front row and watched as Meg climbed up onto the stage and looked around.

"Oh can you imagine being all alone up here with a full house?" Meg squealed.

Christine smiled softly and watched as Meg turned a few pirouettes, landing with a flourish. "Bravo!" she said, though rather half-heartedly and clapped her hands together a few times.

"Come up here!" Meg demanded. 

The exhausted young woman sank further down into the soft, velvet covered chair. "I'm too tired, Meg."

"Don't be silly, Christine. This is so much fun!" Meg grinned and proceeded to leap about the stage, completely abandoning all form.

"What would your mother say if she saw you right now, Meg Giry?" Christine asked lightly. 

Meg stopped center stage and frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose she would demand that I never sleep or eat again and simply practice all day long." 

Christine smiled weakly, although she found the comment very amusing. She never laughed. Never. 

Suddenly a loud creak sounded from somewhere in the auditorium. The sound echoed off of all the walls and ceiling, making it difficult to know where the original source was. Meg gasped and Christine sat up, looking around in alarm.

"What was that?" Christine wondered aloud.

Meg's eyes suddenly widened with excitement. "What if it was the ghost?" she cried, grinning.

Christine rolled her eyes. "Oh stop Meg. There is no ghost in this opera. Those other girls in the corps just like to scare themselves."

"How do you know there's not a ghost?" Meg demanded. "I know some of those girls have wild imaginations…but the ghost could exist!" 

"Oh Meg, you know he doesn't." 

Meg crossed her arms and looked indignant. "Well I happen to believe there is a ghost."

"Well I happen to believe there isn't," Christine retorted.

"All right, if you're so convinced, why don't you come up here and call to him?" Meg said.

Christine, feeling a sudden energy, accepted the dare. "Maybe I will!" she said defiantly. She pushed herself out of the chair and climbed onto the stage to stand in the very center with Meg.

Forgetting the opera ghost for a moment, she looked around her. The stage looked much bigger when it was just she and Meg. The house looked bigger too, more intimidating. When she danced with the corps, it was easy. No one had any reason to look at her in particular. She was safe from all of those eyes, hidden in the third row. But to stand alone on this stage… She could never do something like that.

Meg could almost see what Christine was thinking; she abandoned the idea of the ghost for a moment and grinned. "It's amazing, isn't it? The stage doesn't seem so large when the entire corps is standing with you!" 

Meg's smile grew and she began to dance about the length of the stage once more. She stopped downstage right and opened her mouth, singing a few lines of The Jewel Song from Faust. La Carlotta had been practicing it the entire day.

The corners of Christine's mouth rose. Meg was not a singer, and she was well aware of that fact, but loved to sing anyway. Meg stopped and turned to Christine.

"Hope I didn't hurt your ears too badly with that," she said grinning. 

"Of course not, Meg. You have a nice voice," Christine said.

Meg rolled her eyes. "Oh I do not. Why don't you sing? You're the one with the nice voice! Go ahead! Sing for the opera ghost!" she shouted with a grin.

Erik sat back in the large velvet chair in Box Five, his fingers steepled, his brow creased in thought. The curtain of the box was drawn shut, creating a small cavern, which he could safely reside in without anyone knowing. The curtain blocked almost all light from the auditorium, leaving the small area pleasantly dark and cool. 

He was attending all of the rehearsals in the final week before the gala. He had to make sure all was going well for the new season in his opera house. Some things seemed…somewhat promising. But he could not bear to hear Faust sung by La Carlotta, the leading diva, again. Erik could not imagine why people loved her. She was loud, that was certain. But her pitch was off, sharps reigned supreme, and she exaggerated every line, every word, so the song was nearly beyond recognition. The Jewel Song was Erik's favorite and she was utterly destroying it. He knew that he could not allow her to sing it to the public. He would not have it. 

Silence now reigned in the theatre. The singers and dancers had retired for the night and the stage hands had run off for a bit before they had to come back and clean up and readjust lighting and the like. Erik closed his eyes, going over each performance he had heard that day, taking note of things that still needed work. He would send another note to the managers that night with his instructions for tomorrow's rehearsal. 

But his mental critique of the ballet was interrupted by a high-pitched, female voice. Erik opened his eyes and sighed. It had been so peaceful and now some members of the corps were interrupting him. 

He sat up, deciding that if they did not leave soon he would scare them out. He smiled a little. They'd become quite popular if they had a real encounter with the Opera Ghost. 

Erik listened and discerned two voices. One he recognized as that of Meg Giry. She was a rather excitable child. Exactly the opposite of her mother… Erik stood up and pulled the curtain back a little to observe Meg dancing about the stage freely. She stopped in the center of the stage and talked to her companion who he assumed was seated in the audience. 

For lack of anything else to do while they were there he decided to listen to what they were saying. Perhaps hear the…exciting…new gossip circulating around the corps. He rolled his eyes; those girls had such wild imaginations…

But as he listened, he learned that their topic of discussion was he, the opera ghost. He raised an eyebrow as the girl in the house stated firmly that the ghost did not exist. Erik smirked; he loved to scare the ones who did not want to believe. 

He watched as Meg insisted the girl come up on the stage and call to the ghost. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. He was going to have fun frightening these two.

Erik pulled the curtain back slightly so he could watch the girl climb onto the stage. Her back was to him, but he could see her thin frame and a mass of curly, brown hair, coming loose from a messy bun. She turned to face him. And he froze. He leaned forward slightly and frowned deeply, his mouth open slightly. He knew this girl…

Erik had no idea how he could possibly recognize this girl…and with that recognition feel such a strong emotion in the pit of his stomach. He stared at her, her beautiful angelic face, pale skin, deep blue eyes, small, thin hands… He knew her, but how? 

He realized he had been staring at her blankly and shook himself slightly, refocusing his eyes. Meg was egging her on about something… Erik couldn't seem to focus. It was nearly driving him mad. He felt some strong feeling rush through his veins when he looked at the girl on the stage. And then she began to sing.

Erik dropped the curtain and staggered back a step or two. In a flash he recognized her. He knew who she was. He even knew her name…

_"Come Christine! Sing for us!" the violinist shouted, jovially. _

_His daughter smiled and stepped up beside him on a large crate and began to sing a wonderful folk song as her father accompanied her on the violin. They had attracted quite a crowd. At the very back, half hidden behind a tent, Erik the Enchanter stood, watching the little girl perform. _

_He had found her. Erik had desperately combed the fair grounds, hoping for another glimpse of the little girl. The little girl who had seen his face and smiled up at him. He had barely been able to think after it had happened. All thoughts had been centered on her. The beautiful child with dark brown curls and deep blue eyes… Her features were etched in his mind. And now he had found her. And she had the voice of an angel…_

_Erik could scarcely believe it. This little girl…Christine, her father had called her…who had looked upon him with such kindness, could sing so beautifully. Obviously she was very young, but her voice had such a wonderful hint of innocence and youth. Usually when children sang, it was toneless, without melody. He had never heard a child sing like this… Erik shivered in delight, just imagining what her voice would be like when it matured, if it was well trained someday…_

_Erik closed his eyes and concentrated purely on the girl's song. The small silver coin she had given him was pressed tightly in his fist. _

_Her song ended much too soon, in Erik's opinion. The crowd applauded and cheered and began to depart. As the people thinned he could see people dropping coins into a battered violin case at the base of the crate on which the father and daughter stood. Beside it lay a single red rose, the one he had given her. _

_Christine smiled brightly and watched the many people around her. Some called to her, giving her praise and she waved to them, thanking them politely. Her eyes wandered to the back of the crowd. Her eyes lit up and she waved her small arm and shouted, "Erik!" _

_Erik's stomach lurched slightly. He had not meant to be noticed. He forced a smile onto his face and raised his hand as well. Without any other choice, he glided through the remaining people, who wished to hear more and made his way to her. _

_He smiled kindly and said to her, "You were wonderful, Christine."_

_"Thank you, Erik!" she responded happily. "Look, Papa! It's the magician I was telling you about!" _

_Her father looked at Erik and stepped down from the crate. "Yes," he said, smiling. "My daughter enjoyed your performance, although," he said, turning to Christine, "she shouldn't have wandered off."_

_"Well I enjoyed this show very much," Erik stated, honestly, ignoring the way Christine's father observed the mask he wore. "You are an accomplished musician, sir."_

_Charles Daae smiled then at the compliment. "Well, thank you, kind sir."_

_Erik shifted uncomfortably, not able to bear this interaction must longer. "My apologies, I must be going," he said. He turned quickly on his heel and strode away quickly. _

_"Wait, Erik!" _

_He closed his eyes briefly and stopped walking. He turned to find Christine running after him. She caught up and looked up at him._

_"Why must you go now?" she asked._

_He smiled weakly down at her. "I have a performance, myself…. Here," he said. He reached behind the little girl's ear and brought his hand back with a gold coin between his fingertips. He handed it to her and said, "Give this to your father." _

_Erik waved his hand again and another red rose appeared. "And this is for you. The young prima donna." _

_Christine took it from him with a grin. "Prima Donna…" she said and giggled. _

_Erik felt a lump forming in his throat. She had seen his face…and here she was, talking and laughing with him. She was just a child…but she was not afraid. _

_He smiled and turned to go. _

_"Wait!" she said again. And again he stopped and turned to look down at her._

_"Will I see you again?" she asked, hopefully._

No, you won't, my dear,_ he thought, but said, "Perhaps…"_

Erik had by no means forgotten that small girl… But was it really possible? He went back and opened the curtain again. It was she, he would recognize her anywhere. She had become so very beautiful, more so than he could have imagined. Christine…that child who was surely an angel…was now here before him, in his opera house.

Her voice… She was here, in his opera house, singing for him… It was the voice he had dreamed she would have. The voice that she was destined to have. Only… Erik frowned. There was something wrong. Something…missing. Her voice sounded so empty, almost lifeless. When she was a child, it had carried him away. But now, it was beautiful yes, but…empty.

Erik grasped the railing before him for support. He would meet her… He had to. He could not be so close to her and not talk to her. He would talk to her, find out what was wrong, find out why her voice was so empty. He had to… She had the voice of an angel and she had buried it, clouded it over with sadness. Erik couldn't bear it. 

Christine's song ended and Meg applauded her loudly. "Bravo!" she shouted, clapping her hands. "Encore!"

"No," Christine said. "I really am exhausted, Meg. I'm going to my dressing room to get my things and then I'm going home. I will see you tomorrow." 

She took the stairs off of the stage, and walked out of the auditorium. She knew she shouldn't have stayed to sing for Meg and her "ghost." She was tired and had another long day of rehearsals tomorrow. Christine walked slowly to her dressing room, completely unaware that someone was following her. 

Erik followed Christine without thinking. He hadn't made a conscious decision to do so, it was an automatic response. He ducked in and out of rooms and passages, making sure he was going in the right direction. At last he saw her open a door and enter a room. His eyes widened in shock. Fate was having a field day, that was obvious. That room she had entered… The mirror… 

And he ran. Erik, the opera ghost, the king of cat-like grace and dignity was running to the passage behind the mirror. He would be able to see her. He would be close enough to touch her…

At last he reached the passage. He slowed upon approaching the mirror, suddenly terrified that she would hear his harsh breath. Erik walked slowly and silently up to the glass. Peering through he saw Christine. She was seated at her vanity, removing her ballet shoes. She began to sing softly as she rubbed her sore feet. 

But her singing stopped abruptly and she brought a hand to her throat. She sighed sadly and said to herself, "I don't know why I even try. I can't sing."

Erik opened his mouth, wanting more than anything to contradict her, but he knew he must remain silent.

Christine stood and went to the divan where two costumes had been discarded earlier that day. She began to hang them up. Sighing again she said, "I don't even know what I'm doing here… Why did you tell me I could sing, Papa?" 

She froze and dropped the costume in her delicate hands and collapsed onto the divan, burying her face. "Why did you leave me?" she whispered. 

Erik stared and saw tears running down her cheeks, through her fingers. Her father was dead… An accomplished musician he was. He had seemed very kind, and she must have loved him very much… 

She raised her head, her eyes red, and her cheeks wet. She exhaled with a long shuddering breath and lay down on the divan, facing away from Erik so he could no longer watch her face. Her arm dangled over the armrest above her head.

"You promised me an Angel, Papa…" she said bitterly. Then she spoke as if repeating something her father had once told her. "When I am in heaven child, I shall send the Angel of Music to you…" 

She covered her face with her hands. "But there is no Angel…  Papa, why did you lie to me?"

Erik felt his throat going dry. He felt so much pity for this poor young woman. She had lost her father and believed she had no talent… This was why her voice sounded empty. She missed her father… She wanted an angel… Erik himself did not understand why her father would promise her such a thing. Obviously it would not come true. But Christine believed it, and it softened his heart that had become so very hard and cold over the years… An Angel of Music to teach her to sing…

Then Erik stopped. His mind froze. Had he not once wished to know what her voice sounded like once it was trained? Had he not even wished to be the one to train her? Surely…surely he could now. Why couldn't he be an angel? He had been told he had the voice of an angel countless times before! It would surely fool Christine, who wanted to believe in this angel so much… This could be his only chance! She would never remember him…and it was not as if he could just walk up to her as if he were a normal man!

It was insane. Erik knew what he was about to do was something he would probably regret later. But he had to speak to her. When he looked at her… He felt something he had never felt before. An emotion so strong that burned inside of him like a white-hot fire. Perhaps he loved her…

And he did. He loved her… Erik shook himself. He was being ridiculous. How could he love this girl? Perhaps it was not love… But, maybe it was the beginning of love… It was an infatuation at least. He had vowed to live his life alone, would he go back on that just to speak to this girl?

Yes… She needed him. And he needed her too, although he would not admit it to himself just yet…

But maybe…maybe he had found someone who could love him. Someone who would see past his face easily and see who he really was. She had done it, so many years ago. Perhaps she could still see him as a man. Perhaps she would love him…

Closing his eyes against sudden, burning hot tears, he took a deep breath, and began to sing. 

Perhaps she would love him…

A/N: Poor, delusional Erik. :(  

All right… I may add another chapter to this… But that is a huge MAYBE. I'm not sure if I will or want to…or what. So yes, that's a big maybe if something more will be added to this. This might be the end… I'll have to think about it, lol.

Anyway, I hope this was enjoyable, and not disappointing…

Please Review!! :)

Thank you!!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: All right…this was requested…more of this story! Hehe, here's another chapter for you all. There's one more planned after this one and then I believe it really will be the end. :P

To my reviewers…you all are the best!

Midasgirl: Yes, those thousands of grinning faces convinced me…haha. Thank you so much for reviewing, it means a lot to me 

Angelic Lawyer: Your reviews are a pleasure to read, truly! Thanks : )

Christine Persephone: It amazes me that such a brilliant author enjoys reading my nonsense. Ah, that's a review that can make my day

celtic-lyre: Yes, I'm aware that Christine's hair is really blonde, but in this story she wanted to go for the ALW look, hehe

Fantome: I love your reviews…hehe, thank you!

Riene: What can I say? You flatter me…and I appreciate it too. 

Aenigmatic, Olethros, RubyMoon2, Ilandra, Tranquill, lafantome574, Jenn, Mystic Darkness, AngelMusic, and Catherine Morland: Thanks so much for reading and taking the time to review! You rule.

And now, enough of that…here you are. The next chapter! Onward!

Christine's sobs stopped abruptly in one quick intake of breath. She heard music…someone singing…

Her heart began to pound until she was straining to hear the song above it. Oh such singing it was! The only way she could think of to describe it was…heavenly.

Her hand rose to her mouth. Heavenly! An angel! Could it be that her father had finally heard her plea? Finally remembered his promise?

She swung her feet around and sat up, her eyes automatically drifting upwards as if an angel might appear there, floating above her head, at any moment.

The strangest thing was…as the angelic voice continued she had the bizarre feeling that there was something familiar about it. That was quite impossible of course. It wasn't every day she had angels singing in her dressing room and she was sure that's what the voice was. But now that she had the thought in her head…the voice sounded familiar.

She strained her ears, trying to listen more closely. Was it really possible that she had heard this impossibly magnificent voice before? It was a man's voice…despite its incredible, unearthly beauty and lightness, it remained a man's voice. Did she know a man who could sing like this? Oh, but it sounded so familiar! Now she was certain she had heard it before.

Slowly, her thoughts became more jumbled, until she could no longer think straight. She sank to the floor, surrendering herself to the song of the mysterious voice that had come to her so suddenly. She was lost, floating away on the golden notes that wafted through the air all around her.

Suddenly it stopped, that glorious music stopped! Christine leapt to her feet in alarm.

"Please!" she called out, not sure which direction to face. "Wait…please don't leave."

Her plea was met with silence. Tears sprang to her eyes. No! Her angel wouldn't have just left her! He must be there still… She decided to address him again, certain he hadn't left her already, at least trying to feel certain.

"Who…who are you?"

Silence.

"Please! Please say something…" Christine was getting worried now. "I know I didn't imagine it," she said to herself. "I did hear singing! I know I did." She crossed to the center of the room, her eyes looking up. "Are you here?" Christine bit her lip, struggling not to start crying again. "Please come back!"

"Christine…"

She gasped loudly. The voice was there, he said her name!

"Who…are you?" she asked again.

"I heard you calling, Christine," the voice said, speaking louder this time.

Christine was shocked by how familiar it sounded…to hear that voice saying her name. But yes, she had been calling, calling for her father, for an Angel of Music.

"Then…are you the Angel of Music?" she asked straight out, so anxious was she to hear the answer.

There was a pause, but then the voice responded, "I am whatever you want me to be, my child. I've come to help you."

Christine wished she could see him, or at least know where the voice was coming from. Most of all she wished to know why it sounded so familiar to her.

She settled for the easier of her questions. "Where are you?"

"I am all around you, child."

This wasn't the answer Christine had wanted, but she decided that asking again wouldn't help any. And there seemed to be truth to this statement. It did indeed sound like the voice came from several different directions all at the same time.

She fell silent now, unaware of what to say next. Her Angel of Music had come…now what? He would help her wouldn't he? Help her to sing? His voice almost startled her when he spoke again.

"You will hear from me often. I will look after you, Christine. Your voice will be great."

Christine touched her throat, wondering if all this could really be possible.

"I will leave you now. I shall meet you again, tomorrow after rehearsal. Do not be late. All will be explained then."

"Oh please don't go!" Christine said, unwilling to be left alone again.

"I must. Tomorrow…" With that his voice faded away into nothing.

Christine dropped to her knees again, her eyes wide with wonder. She looked down at her arm, then quickly pinched it. She rejoiced in the slight pain she felt. It hadn't been a dream. Her Angel of Music had come at last.

Her aching muscles screamed in pain as Christine took off running the moment she was dismissed from rehearsal. Meg called after her, but she barely heard. She didn't stop, oh no. The voice had said he would meet her again after rehearsal…and she mustn't be late!

When she reached her dressing room, she quickly closed the door and turned the key in the lock. At any other time she probably would have collapsed on the floor, but not now. No, she found herself full of a sudden excitement. Everything would be explained today.

And she was glad of that… The magic of the voice in her dressing room had thrilled her so much yesterday. But then when she was home, lying in bed, unable to sleep for thinking about it so much…was such a thing really possible? Why did she know that voice? All would be explained today…

There was no sound from anywhere, so Christine assumed the angel, if he was indeed her angel had not arrived yet. He probably hadn't counted on her running. She sat down on the small divan and deftly removed her pointe shoes, throwing them on the floor rather than putting them away properly. She then stood to take a robe down from one of the hooks on the wall to put on. The corps had not been in full costume that day, but Christine was still barely dressed the way she was. 

Tying the belt of the robe tightly around her waist, she sat down on the divan again to wait. She was getting more and more anxious now. She had been in the room no more than five minutes, but already she was ridiculously impatient. It was strange for her to feel that way, but she could hardly help it. She couldn't remember feeling this way…excited…nearly happy… It seemed her father had died so long ago… Her depression had made the days long. But this day had flown. She had danced better than she ever had before, been cheerful for the first time in anyone's memory.

Now, however, as she sat waiting, she began to wonder if perhaps it had all been just her imagination… Though she feared this, she knew that she could never have created such a voice in her mind. It had been here in this room and she had heard it. She would wait.

Her legs began to swing back and forth, a childish habit, but one that kept her impatience at bay. 

Should she call out to him? Oh she wished he would come! She wanted to hear that voice again… Oh that voice…

"You did well today, Christine."

Christine started, even though the statement was soft and warm. She had been startled out of her thoughts and was thrilled to hear that voice again! All would be explained.

Temporarily she was speechless. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she managed to stutter, "You…you were watching rehearsal?"

"Oh yes," the voice said lightly. "I always watch."

"Oh, well…thank you. I…was thinking of you. It helped me," she said softly, blushing slightly. Christine wondered then, if this was the proper way to talk to an Angel.

"But you belong in the spotlight, child, singing, sharing your gift with this city."

Christine looked down at her hands, enjoying the praise offered. She said nothing and a few moments of silence passed between them. Finally she said, "Excuse me, but…" She stopped, biting her lip nervously. "You said…that 'all would be explained' today. I was wondering…"

"Of course, child."

Christine's hands twisted together in her lap as she anxiously awaited what he would say. Perhaps… Dare she tell him that his voice sounded familiar to her?

~~~~~~~~~~

Erik stood close to the mirror, trembling from just being so near to her again. Oh…if only the glass did not separate them! If only he could just open the mirror, step into the room, and tell her what she meant to him! If only that were possible…

But wait…maybe it would be possible… Maybe if he told her, reminded her of that fair. Would she remember? She had been a very small child he knew… But oh, what if he did tell her about it and she remembered… What if the guise was unnecessary?

"Angel?"

He realised then that he hadn't answered her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, coming to a decision that could ruin his contact with her, but he had to try. It was a very strong what if…

"Do not call me that, child."

Her brow creased in confusion. Oh, she was beautiful.

"But…"

"I must tell you, Christine…" He paused. "When you were young, your father took you to fairs. You would sing while he played the violin."

He watched her eyes widen as she looked about her. "That's right…" she said softly. The sadness in her returned, he could see it. Her shoulders slumped, her voice hinted tears. He regretted his statement now, but it was too late. He had begun.

"You were very young…a fair in Sweden. You wandered off," he continued, recounting the story as he remembered it. "There was a magician who called himself an enchanter, Erik the Enchanter. He did tricks, he sang…he handed you two roses that day."

Erik realised then that he hadn't been watching her as he spoke, his eyes were unfocused, staring blankly down at the floor. He summoned his courage then to look up. Christine sat frozen, as if in disbelief. He was very close to turning around and running back to his house beneath the opera and never leaving it again.

Then, suddenly, instead of saying anything, Christine jumped up and practically flew across the room to her vanity. She dropped to her knees, opened a drawer and started to dig through it. Erik watched this with curiosity, though the urge to run was still present.

Finally, Christine sat back on her heels with a weathered, leather-bound book in her hand. She opened it carefully as she whispered. "Papa showed me how to press them, so I could keep them…"

With that she lifted the dried, delicate flower, the colour nearly faded with age. But it had most certainly been red. Erik's heart began to pound painfully. She had kept his rose! …What did that mean?

Christine held the flower very gently between her fingers. She touched it to her lips, then replaced it in the book which she then closed and placed on top of the vanity. Erik merely watched her, not knowing what to do next, now that he had exposed himself for what he was.

"Your voice sounded familiar."

She had remembered him.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope to hear what you think of this…so…please review! Thank you : ) 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: These characters still aren't mine…Leroux made them up. Have some ALW things in here as well. So don't sue me.

A/N: Well, hello there everyone! I mean…if anyone still cares about this story? It's been a simply inexcusable amount of time since this was updated and…since it's inexcusable I really have no excuse so I will just beg your forgiveness and hope you will read and enjoy!

But first…thank you to my reviewers! You are all amazing beyond words, truly!

Fantome: Your reviews rock my socks, haha. They always make me happy! So thank you! I'll be seeing you around Cujo's LJ I'm sure… :P

Christine Persephone: Thanks so much for your review! It means a lot to me, and I'm glad you found Christine cute, hehe.

Tranquill: Haha, I know…only one more chapter. But its a nice long one! Thanks for your compliments.

Angelic Lawyer: Obrigada! I do appreciate your reviews very much. And look, I remembered how to say thank you! hehe. I'm glad you're enjoying this.

Mystic Darkness, Emerald Songbird, Crimson Syirean, LadyWillow, rikkirye, Phantom Maestro, kk, AngelMusic, sophie, PenelopeBlack13, Starr-Rider, No One Mourns the Wicked, Cynical Romantic Lass, kimusume kaoru, and monroe-mary:

You guys are awesome. Your reviews are so important to me and I really appreciate them.

Dedication: This chapter is bursts into song Aaaalllll for Caaaatheriiineeee. Hahah, sorry Cat, I couldn't help it… No more WIW, I promise. But seriously, thank you so much for all of your support. This chapter might have NEVER gotten written if it hadn't been for your encouragement and I appreciate it so much. Don't know what I would do without you, darling!

LASTLY! This is the last chapter, but will be followed soon by a short epilogue! So keep your eyes peeled!

Enjoy everyone.

……………………..

Erik found that he could not move. He couldn't believe that this was happening. He was actually speaking to this girl…and she remembered who he was!

Christine sat back on her heels and looked around the room. "Where are you?" she asked.

Erik hesitated now. Surely she would not exactly be pleased to see him should he suddenly burst through her mirror… He was stuck, unsure of what the correct course of action should be. He could circle around and come in through the door, but that would risk his being seen, not to mention would leave many unanswered questions about his voice being inside the room. Confused now, there was silence as he frantically searched for some explanation.

Standing up slowly, Christine frowned. Why wasn't he answering her? Had he gone? "Are you still here?" she asked carefully.

"Yes," Erik answered, his voice settling to its true point behind the mirror.

Christine turned her head in that direction now. She stared at the mirror thoughtfully, as if trying to look past her own reflection. "Where are you?" she repeated, taking a few uncertain steps towards to the mirror.

She touched the glass experimentally. Staring at it thoughtfully, she finally said, "Are you behind the mirror?"

Of course, the purpose of Erik making his voice come normally, from where he actually stood, was just so Christine could guess his location. He figured that it would be slightly less shocking if she knew where he was going to emerge from. Less shocking then him just swinging open the panel and bursting into the room, anyway.

"Stand back," Erik said, defeated. He had to show himself.

Christine took several steps back and waited, her face eager, childlike. Finally, the mirror began to move. She watched with wide eyes as the mirror swung open before her. Her heart seemed to be beating much faster than usual as she tried to see into the darkness that had been revealed.

At last, he stepped forward and for the second time in her life Christine was face to face with Erik the Enchanter.

She bit her tongue to prevent herself from gasping or making any other noise that might offend him. But this was without a doubt the most shocking thing to ever happen to her. She hadn't seen this man in years and now…he was hiding behind the mirror in her dressing room? A million questions filled her mind at once until she was too confused to ask any of them.

Christine finally managed to put a single question together and blurted out, "How did you get here?"

Erik stared down at her. He had pulled himself up to his full height and made quite an imposing figure. He didn't do this to frighten Christine, of course, but he felt so vulnerable and the feeling was sickening.

"I saw you singing on the stage," he admitted. "There are hundreds of secret passages in this building. That," he said, pointing to the mirror, "is one of them." Erik bowed slightly then, and said as heartfeltly as he could. "I must beg your pardon, mademoiselle. I had no intention of spying on you, truly. I wished to see you, and I was sure you wouldn't remember me, or wouldn't accept me if you did. I wasn't thinking properly. It was a terrible error on my part, to stay when I saw you in distress. I wanted to help you, to ease the pain you were feeling. I am deeply sorry for trying to deceive you."

Erik took a deep breath when he had finished this explanation, ready to run back through the mirror and possibly drown himself in the lake beneath the opera if she were to grow angry, or worse, scream. He had permeated her privacy, committed a horrible breach of etiquette. But perhaps she didn't know enough about such things to find it truly alarming.

And it seemed Erik's last hope was correct. The implications of this man watching her from behind her mirror and then actually being alone with her in her dressing room didn't even cross her mind. She was more curious as to how she had somehow found this man again after all this time. He had the most beautiful voice… She couldn't guess why he had tried to deceive her, but his explanation satisfied her well enough.

She knew that later she'd be very hurt that he had tried to trick her in such a way, but she couldn't be angry with him. She couldn't be anything at that moment, but curious.

There was an awkward silence in the room then, as Christine discarded her questions instead of asking them, thinking they sounded too stupid to voice.

Finally Erik broke the silence. "If you wish, mademoiselle, I will leave now and never bother you again."

His voice sounded sad and hopeless and after he had said that Christine was sure she didn't want him to leave. "No…please, don't go. It's just…you've surprised me. I don't know what to say." She shrugged and looked at the floor instead of the tall figure before her.

She heard Erik sigh, then he said, "I do believe that your voice could be great, Christine. I thought that, even when you were a child, if your voice was trained someday, you would have the most extraordinary voice. I could help you, if you wish."

Christine swallowed hard. Erik would help her to sing again… She remembered how it had felt, singing alone on the stage. Maybe someday…she could be the lead soprano. What if it was possible? It would make her father so proud…

"I would like that very much," she said.

She thought she almost saw him smile then. "Very well," he replied. "I will help you. You will amaze all of Paris someday soon, I'm sure of it. Tomorrow evening I will meet you here and we will begin."

Christine nodded. "Tomorrow evening."

Erik moved back toward the mirror. "Goodnight, Christine."

And then he was gone, back through the mirror. Christine shook her head, confused about what had just occurred. A man from her childhood had appeared in her room, offered to mold her voice to greatness, and strangely…he still wore the same black mask.

Shaking her head again, she said quietly, "Until tomorrow."

……………………………..

After rehearsal the next day, Christine again ran straight away to her dressing room. It was empty when she arrived. She called Erik's name and on hearing no response, went as quickly as possible behind her changing screens to don a proper dress. A dressing gown may have been well enough for an angel, but she felt it rather inappropriate for a singing tutor.

Emerging dressed simply, she turned to the mirror at her vanity and pulled her hair out of its bun and tied it back more comfortably with a bit of ribbon.

Just as she had finished this, she heard the sound of his voice. But not speaking, not asking for permission to enter the room, just singing. He was singing for her with that unearthly beautiful voice that felt familiar, but still left her shivering.

The wordless melody grew in strength and the mirror slowly opened to reveal him. If she had been more in charge of her senses, she would have wondered about this display he put on for her, as if in entertainment. But part of her was so intent on Erik's song that she couldn't bring herself to think of anything else.

Still dressed in black, Erik lifted the violin he carried in his hand, it's sweet sound accompanying his voice. Christine felt rather dizzy, her senses assaulted by these beautiful sounds such as she had never heard before.

His voice died off slowly, but the violin continued, slowly melding into a familiar aria that he knew her highly capable of.

"Now sing," he commanded, in a tone so enticing it did not once occur to her to refuse.

As she sang, she was instantly transformed. She was five years old again, dancing in the sunlight, her bare feet skimming across the grass. Her father laughed. It was he playing the violin! He had come back to her in her Angel of Music… She sang, she sang with her soul light and renewed. She sang in a way she hadn't since her father had died and the feeling within her was that of ecstasy.

Erik felt as if he were alive again. He hadn't realised it until then, how at some point, being buried under the ground and completely isolated, he had died. But this girl was reviving him with her voice, her spirit, her promise of acceptance. A thrill went through him at the very thought of it. Acceptance… He had found a meaning to his life at last.

The music stopped only when Christine fainted. The violin fell from Erik's hands, carelessly dropping to the thick carpet. He was at Christine's side instantly. With slight hesitation he lifted her into his arms and felt an extreme disappointment when she left them as he lowered her onto the divan.

Christine stirred slightly and Erik knelt down beside her, drinking in the sight of her, the joy of seeing her matured features. Her cheeks had lost their childish roundness and she had become an exquisite beauty. In Erik's eyes, she was the angel, not he. She was perfect.

Christine opened her eyes then, blinking several times trying to regain her senses. She saw Erik and smiled.

"Erik," she said, "that was... Oh, I…I felt as if I could sing again." Her eyes shone, her lips curled upward in a dreamy smile.

Erik could hardly believe the joy he felt at hearing Christine say his name. It had been so long since anyone had said his name…

"You've always been able to sing, Christine. Your voice could thrill all of Paris someday."

He offered his hand to her and helped her to rise.

"I will not teach you today, Christine. Today I simply showed you that you have always possessed the ability to sing and that it is not lost. You've experienced it yourself. We will soon begin your lessons and your voice will shock those who hear it, for they will not believe its magnificence."

Christine's face flushed at this flattery, but she had the sense not to argue. She didn't know if she believed Erik's words…but he had proved to her that she could still sing. Perhaps the talent had been buried by her own hand, but Erik would find it again, she was sure.

She trusted him.

………………………

During the next few weeks, Christine was visited by Erik daily after her rehearsals with the company.

The days didn't seem nearly as long anymore. While she remembered forcing herself through life before, she nearly floated through it now. She had had nothing. Her father had left her and she was abandoned in the strange world of performance.

But now, she had something to live for, something to look forward to every day.

Erik was helping her in ways even he couldn't fully comprehend. Christine began to enjoy life again. She really laughed for the first time in years, succeeding in surprising Meg who was among the first to notice such a change in her.

Christine simply felt a confidence that had abandoned her when her father died. She had it back now. She danced better during rehearsals, and more importantly, she was truly singing again.

Erik's lessons were a struggle for her at first. It was difficult for her to concentrate on singing when it reminded her so strongly of her father. But slowly, Erik pulled her from that sadness that surrounded her. He taught her that she could sing. Her father hadn't lied about that. She could sing if she allowed herself to.

With each lesson she became a little stronger. Soon, even she could hear a difference in her voice.

She enjoyed singing the way she did when she was a little girl. Christine gradually realised that it would have pained her father to see her in her previous state. Surely a way to make him happy would be to sing.

……………………………..

One day, after a particularly fulfilling lesson for Christine, she watched Erik lovingly place his violin in its case as he always did before disappearing back through the mirror.

She had been so happy over the past weeks that she still had not asked him why he came and went through the mirror, why he wore a mask…why anything. It was all so strange when she thought about it that she often chose not to. Erik made her feel safe and wonderful in a way no one had since her father. She was afraid of losing that over a question that could offend him.

"You sang very well today, Christine," Erik said, interrupting her thoughts.

Christine looked up at him and smiled. Erik began to smile as well, but abruptly turned away from her and went back to the packing of his precious instrument.

She frowned. He did that often. As if he were afraid to show her too much of his emotions. She wondered what exactly he could be afraid of in doing something as simple as smiling.

Closing the clasps on the case, he picked up the violin and placed his hat on his head, preparing to leave her. But Christine found that she didn't want him to leave.

Boldly, she stood and said, "Erik, wait…"

He turned back to her.

"Will you…will you stay awhile longer?" she asked him.

Erik nearly smiled again. "I'm afraid your voice will be strained if we continue any longer today, my dear."

Christine paused. He'd misunderstood her. "No," she said finally. "Not to sing…just to talk. I thought maybe you could just keep me company for awhile?"

She finished as if phrasing a question. Erik's expression seemed to have changed and she couldn't tell whether her request had offended him in some way.

After what seemed an eternity of silence, but was truly only a few seconds, Erik slowly lowered his instrument to the floor. "If you wish," he said.

Christine thought there was a slight tremor in his voice and she watched him carefully as he placed his hat back on her vanity.

She stood up as he continued to stand awkwardly and went towards him.

"I just wanted to thank you really… These lessons, having you here….they mean everything to me, Erik. Just everything!"

Erik seemed surprised at this. But how could he not know how much she cared for him? And she truly did care for him. Slowly, he was becoming her world.

He didn't respond and anxious to fill the silence, Christine said as sincerely as she could, "You have made me so happy. I don't know how I can ever repay you for this."

Unconsciously, she took his hand as she spoke. The moment she touched him however, his arm followed by his entire body stiffened. His eyes widened into an unreadable expression. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from hers.

She looked into his eyes, confused by his reaction. "Erik?" she whispered.

But he seemed not to hear her. His hand slowly raised to the air next to her cheek. Her skin tingled from the proximity of his fingers. She felt the sudden desire for him to touch her. She realised that he hadn't ever touched her…

He traced the outline of her face without making contact. Erik's hand froze, trembling, as in realisation that she was not running away nor was she repulsed by the idea of his touch.

Gently, as if it had been a feather rather than flesh, his fingers brushed against her cheek. Her eyes closed and she gasped automatically at the cold thrill of his touch.

Suddenly, Erik jerked away from her, his hand balling into a fist. Without saying a word, he snatched up his violin and was gone in a matter of seconds.

Christine remained where she stood, now quite alone.

………………………………….

On the other side of the mirror, Erik collapsed. Leaning against the cold, stone wall of the passage, he began to cry silent tears.

He had not been wrong. He loved her. He loved her! Surely this was what love felt like. This unbelievable pain of being so close to this girl every day, but at the same time being so far away.

It had been horrible of him to touch her. How dare he touch her with his death's hands? No one deserved that. He looked at his wretched hands, blurred by the tears coming from his eyes. His fingers were long, skeletal, and deathly white. They had no business ever touching a woman.

Especially not Christine…no he could not touch her! It would hurt her and he felt at that moment that he would rather die than cause her pain.

But he wanted her…he wanted her for himself. If only he could tell her of his love… If only he were a normal man who could court a lady!

He had resigned himself to his solitude so long ago. He knew that no woman would ever love him.

But what if… He still clung to the hope that Christine was different. He still clung to the hope that she would still see past his hideous visage as she had done so many years ago…

He clung to that hope. He had to.

………………………………

Christine met Erik the next afternoon full of trepidation. She didn't quite understand what had occurred yesterday or if it was her fault.

She arrived at her dressing room and changed as usual. Several minutes later, the mirror opened and Erik stepped inside, nodding to her courteously, but saying nothing.

He simply laid his violin case down, opened it, and began to tune his intrument.

Christine watched him for a moment until she could not keep from speaking any longer.

"Is everything all right, Erik?" she blurted.

Erik hands stopped his work on the violin, but did not turn to face her. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, my dear."

"I mean…you left so suddenly yesterday. I thought maybe I had done something wrong," she finished quietly.

Erik turned to her immediately. "No, Christine. Nothing that happened yesterday was your fault." He paused. "I…I apologise for my behaviour."

There was silence between them, broken eventually by Erik beginning to play scales on his violin. Their lesson began and ended normally. The incident was eventually forgotten, and their tentative friendship continued.

……………………………….

Later that afternoon, Meg Giry was to be seen creeping through the opera towards Christine's dressing room..

Finally reaching the door, Meg knocked lightly and waited.

Nearly a full minute passed before the door was finally opened.

Despite having to wait, Meg grinned the moment the door opened and hugged her friend as she exclaimed, "Christine! Oh it feels like ages since I've been able to come talk to you… You never seem to be here when I come! But today I caught you."

Still smiling Meg entered the room. "It does seem like so long since we've talked. I hardly ever see you. Well, except at rehearsal, but that's no fun."

Christine couldn't help but grin as well. Meg's smile was rather infectious. "Yes, I'm glad you came, Meg. Come, let's sit down."

"Oh yes, let's. We'll talk at last," Meg said cheerfully as she settled herself on the divan and Christine did the same. "If you wouldn't mind terribly, I'd like to ask you something first."

Christine tensed slightly. "All right," she said.

Meg didn't notice and continued on, "Well, it's just that I've noticed a change in you, you see. You're just…happier. I can tell, I know just how sad you used to be. Even now I can see the difference! What's happened, Christine?" Meg smiled slyly then. "You haven't met someone have you?"

Christine forced herself to laugh. "No, no, Meg, nothing like that."

"Well, then what?" Meg asked innocently.

Christine paused. She had thus far refrained from telling Meg anything about Erik. She was afraid that no one could possibly understand…

"Christine?" Meg asked, her eyebrows knitting slightly. "Will you not tell me?"

Biting her lip slightly, Christine looked down at her hands, considering what might happen if she did tell Meg everything. She had a right to know after all. Friends shouldn't keep secrets, especially such important ones!

Meg's face had rearranged itself again into a hurt expression. "Have I done something?"

Christine looked into Meg's worried eyes and immediately said, "Oh, no, Meg. You haven't done anything. Of course not… It's just…I don't know if you'll understand."

Christine trailed off and she looked to the floor. Meg ducked her head and found Christine's gaze.

Softly, she said, "You can tell me."

Christine took Meg's hand. "Meg…please, if I tell you, you can't tell anyone."

Meg gripped Christine's hand tighter, thrilled that she was finally going to be let in on what promised to be a juicy secret. "I promise, I won't," she said sincerely.

Christine was unsure where to begin in an explanation of Erik. She decided the best way would be to begin with her father's story.

And so she did.

"When I was a little girl, my father used to tell me stories, fairy tales, late at night. They had such magic in them and I believed it all, of course. And…maybe I still believe some of it. It is better to believe in magic isn't it? Than to believe that there isn't something so good in the world?"

She paused for a moment. She sounded silly. But she continued on anyway.

"The story he told most often was of an Angel of Music. He was an Angel who came down from Heaven. He would go to good little girls and boys and would grant them the gift of his music. Papa told me that when he died he would ask the Angel to come to me, so that I would sing in his heavenly way."

Again, Christine had to stop, though this time over the pain of recounting the time her father and she had shared.

Fighting back tears, she kept going. "It was a story…but I believed it. I wanted to, I had to. It was all I had left of him after he died, his stories and his promise of an Angel. And…an Angel has come to me, Meg. You won't believe it, but I swear that it is true. I thought he was a real Angel and maybe he is. But he teaches me, Meg! Oh wonderful things…he's taught me to sing and to be happy."

Meg listened to this fantastic story without comment, but now she could not resist the urge to speak any longer. "But…it was only a story."

Christine sighed. "Yes…it was just a story. But I have an Angel! He isn't an Angel from heaven, but he is one all the same. To me he is."

"But who is he, Christine?" Meg persisted, rather baffled by what she had been told.

"He's…well I suppose he is a man."

Meg's eyes widened. Her hand tightened on Christine's. "A man?" she repeated.

"Well, yes," Christine said, avoiding Meg's eyes. "He's a man…I met him once a long time ago when I was a little girl. And he's found me again."

Biting her lower lip, Meg hesitated, unsure what to think of Christine's story. On the one hand, whoever this strange tutor was he certainly had had an affect on her friend. She was happy, that much was true. On the other…

Something was telling Meg that there was trouble to be found in the midst of this fairy tale.

Christine sighed when Meg did not respond. "You don't understand," she said quietly.

"Oh, Christine, I'm sorry," Meg answered, automatically becoming more upset by the sadness in her friend's voice. "It's just…isn't it rather odd that such a story should come true? I mean…well…" The girl paused, blushing slightly. "What if he's trying to trick you?" she finished lamely.

Christine's eyebrows knitted together. "Oh, Meg, no… This is not a trick. He is…well, he's my friend. He's my teacher."

Meg tilted her head to the side and looked hard at Christine. It seemed to her that she was telling the truth and not hiding anything else… But it still nagged at Meg that a man was visiting Christine everyday. She didn't want her to be hurt.

"Oh Christine…" she said at last. "Are you sure it's all right to have him here? I mean…what if…" Meg stopped, grasping for words.

"No, it's not like that, really. He wouldn't ever hurt me."

"Are you sure?" Meg asked.

Christine looked away, wishing that her friend would stop being so concerned and be the bubbly, cheerful girl who had first walked into her dressing room.

Meg frowned when Christine didn't answer. She paused, making a decision. "I'm going to tell my mother," she declared, stood, and started for the door.

Christine's eyes widened with fear. She lunged forward and grasped Meg's arm. "Meg, no! Please, you can't!"

"I have to," Meg told her friend sadly. "I'm afraid for you, Christine."

Christine was beginning to panic, but she held fast to Meg's arm. "Please, Meg. You promised not to tell anyone. Please, he might be taken away from me and I'll just die, Meg. I'll die! Please," she begged.

Meg stopped trying to free her arm, seeing Christine's tears.

The girl sighed, "I'm sorry, Christine… I promised I wouldn't tell, but…I was just worried. But maybe you're right. He has helped you…"

Meg paused, still indecisive. "Just promise me you'll tell me or someone if anything is wrong?"

Christine nodded fervently. "I promise, Meg. I won't get hurt."

Meg nodded as well, accepting that she couldn't do something that would hurt Christine so badly. She embraced her impulsively then. "I'm sorry, Christine," she said again.

She pulled away, taking her hands. "So what has he taught you then?"

Christine hesitated. "You want to hear me?"

Meg smiled. "Of course I do! If he's such a great tutor I want to hear what he's done." She reseated herself on the divan. "Well, go on!"

Christine took a deep breath and began. The Jewel Song again, the same she had sung for Meg and "the ghost" those short weeks ago. However, it was different this time. Meg heard the same lovely voice that Christine had always had, but it was changed. It had feeling. That was the difference, the tone was richer, melting in the air. And Christine really sang. She didn't just combine notes and lyrics anymore, she put her heart in it. There was power and meaning behind the words now. Meg had never heard anything so beautiful.

When the song had finished, Meg didn't know what to say. Christine stood in front of her, blushing in the silence. "Well?" she asked quietly.

Meg stood and hugged her. "Christine…maybe he is an angel."

…………………………..

"Erik," Christine said, when his violin was shut safely into its case. "What is beyond the mirror exactly?"

He turned away from the case that sat on the vanity and turned to look at her. His eyes narrowed and after a moment he said, "Why do you ask, my dear?"

She shrugged, looking down at the floor. "I was just wondering…" She paused, wondering if she dared say what she wanted to say next. She did dare. "Maybe you could show me?"

Christine looked up to find an odd look in Erik's eyes, but he did actually seem to be considering it. After all, she had been under his instruction for some time and she liked to think of them as very good friends… She blushed suddenly, trying to crush the thought that told her she didn't always consider him just a good friend… But she did want to see where he went… What was behind there?

He turned from her then, seemingly to give her request serious consideration. Was he risking something in showing her?

After a brief moment, Erik turned and said, "All right, Christine. I will show you."

She smiled, though a little uncertainly. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, after all.

He went to the mirror then, reaching up to touch the mechanism that would pivot the glass to allow them passage. He disappeared for just a moment into the darkness before returning with a lantern which she assumed he had just lit.

"I suggest you put on something warm," he said to her.

Christine face creased slightly in curiosity, but she obeyed, taking her cloak from the hook on the wall. She fumbled with the strings as she tied it on, noticing now that her fingers were shaking. But what did she have to be afraid of?

He took the lantern in one hand and his violin in the other, then stepped through into the darkness. "Come, Christine."

She hesitated for only a moment before following him in. The mirror swung shut behind her and she jumped, instinctively grabbing onto Erik's sleeve. But the moment she felt him flinch, she released him, blushing.

She looked around as Erik held the lantern high so she could see as much as possible. They were in a stone passage. To her right lay a hall, or at least she assumed so, she couldn't see very far. Directly in front of them was an endless staircase, leading down, down into blackness.

Christine bit her lip. This was starting to frighten her. The dark was oppressive.

Erik waited patiently for her to inspect these surroundings and then said, "Are you ready, my dear?"

She paused and nodded. He began down the stairs, but she stopped him. Christine took the violin from him, and then took his hand. Its icy coldness shocked her, but she needed to hold onto him for this journey. He had flinched again at her touch, but she did not let go. And so they began down those stone steps.

Christine was grateful for the warmth of her cloak, with each step she took the temperature seemed to drop. She was also grateful for Erik's hand holding hers as she managed to stumble many times.

The stairs and halls were a maze to her that she felt she would never be able to get through, but Erik moved through it all so naturally. She felt safe with him as her guide.

He sensed that she was afraid. This was all so strange to her. And so he began to sing. Softly, then building…she joined him as they went farther and soon she barely noticed how far they were going. She felt more like she was floating than walking, her feet cushioned by the sound of Erik's voice, more perfect than any voice she would ever hear.

Erik's singing continued when suddenly the stairs ended and there before them lay a lake. There was a lake under the opera house! Christine barely seemed to notice that this was unusual. She felt dazed, still floating, not completely aware of her surroundings. So she allowed Erik to help her into a small rowboat without a sound and his voice carried them across.

……………………………………..

Christine awoke on a divan in a comfortable sitting room before a large fireplace. Blinking several times, struggling to remember where she was or why she had been asleep. Perhaps she had fainted again….

She turned her head and saw Erik seated in a large armchair a few feet away. The journey he had brought on her was recalled to her mind. Yes, he had brought her down in the darkness and they had sung together…

She sat up and Erik turned to look at her, his eyes empty of expression, seeming more interested in examining hers.

Christine sat up and looked around her, examining the room around her, surprised at the normalcy.

For yes, Erik's home, five cellars below the opera, could be seemingly normal in many of the rooms. The sitting room could have belonged to any other house, except for its obvious lack of windows and natural light.

She looked back at him and asked quietly, "This is where you live?"

He nodded.

The question 'Why?' lingered on her lips, but she did not voice it. Just as she did not question his mask, she did not question his home.

After looking around a second time, finding nothing to fear around her, she looked at him and smiled slightly.

A few moments later he asked carefully, "Would you like something to eat, child?"

She nodded. He stood and offered his hand to help her off the divan. She held fast to his hand as he led her through to another room, partly for support and partly because it felt comforting. It was cold…but not frighteningly so. It reminded her of her Mamma Valerius. Her hands had always been cold. Erik reminded her of so many good things…

Christine ate the food he offered her, after which she felt sleepy and content. Erik then took her to a room which he called hers and she slept in such comfort and elegance that she felt she had somehow become a queen, a queen in Erik's kingdom.

………………………………

She awoke several hours later. There was a small clock on top of the bureau, so she knew that it was approximately 2:30 in the morning. It couldn't have been in the afternoon, she hadn't slept that long.

Slowly Christine became aware of music playing somewhere in the house. Taking one more moment to enjoy the softness of the bed she had slept in, she sat up and lowered her feet onto the soft carpeting. She crept through the room and opened the door, the music getting louder as she did so. She followed the sound through the sitting room and into a drawing room.

Erik sat at a piano, playing so passionately that it seemed he was completely unaware that she had entered the room. In fact, it seemed he was completely unaware of anything but his music. She went closer to him, watching in amazement as his fingers seemed to fly across the keys, barely touching them. She had never heard such music played, she had no idea that such sound could be emitted from this instrument.

His back was to her, he paid her no mind at all. He really hadn't heard her come in. She took this opportunity to just watch him, the way she couldn't when he could see her doing so. His fingers were incredible, long and agile, and she loved watching the muscles in his back and his shoulders moving as his fingers moved along the piano. Her eyes moved upward and she saw the ties that held his mask in place.

His mask… She didn't notice it as much as she might have, she had been so happy here. But now as she stared at those ribbons she began to wonder… He had worn it all those years ago. Why? He hadn't worn it as part of his magician's costume if he still wore it today. But why? Why wear a mask? Christine had a sudden burning desire to see his face, his face that would be so handsome. She would surely fall in love with him if she could see his handsome face. There was no reason for him to wear a mask! She knew who he was.

The ribbons were tied securely…but if she pulled the end they would come undone and the black silk would slip from his face. Excitement began to build in her stomach. She wanted to see him! Her fingers itched to reach for those ribbons!

Christine crept up behind him slowly as he continued to play the piano. He didn't notice her careful steps. Her hand rose, her fingers an inch away from the ties. She was seconds away from seeing him…

Before she could think of the consequences of such an action and before she could change her mind, her fingers flew forward, grasping the ribbon and tugging it.

The ties came undone, the mask slipped off his face, and the music came to a crashing halt. Christine's hand was still raised in the position it had been when she had untied the mask. The silence in the room frightened her. Why wasn't he doing anything? Then slowly, he turned.

Christine suddenly found herself in a tent packed with people. She was facing them and all of them seemed the same. Eyes were wide with terror, women fell to the ground in dead faints, mothers turned away and were quick to cover children's eyes. And the screams…people were screaming! The sound echoing around the tent, the tone matching all of those horrified faces…

When Christine found herself back in the drawing room she realised that she was the one screaming. She was on the ground, tears streaming down her face, she was screaming. That face…all of the people in the tent had seen it that day, but she hadn't…And now, now it was her turn.

Erik was standing a few feet from her, his eyes seemed filled with fire. He was terrifying, completely and utterly. His face was deformed beyond anything she could have imagined. Yet he made no attempt to cover it, did not lift a hand to shield her vision from the yellowish skin, the gaping hole in the center of his face…if it could even be called that. He simply stared at her, as if he could not comprehend the sight before him anymore than she could.

She was still screaming, crying out incomprehensibly. She wanted to stop, but she couldn't. She was horrified, shocked, crushed… And Erik stood before her, staring.

When he finally moved, he did it so fast she hadn't even noticed until he was beside her. He grabbed her roughly, a swift movement that she didn't try to understand. First this face, and now hints of violence in him. She couldn't handle it. Her eyes closed tightly as his fingers wrapped brutally around her wrists.

Then he spoke. "No…" Was that disbelief in his voice? Had he thought she wouldn't be afraid? "No!" Louder now, anger… "Look at me!"

Christine didn't listen. She turned her head away her eyes remaining shut tight. But they snapped open suddenly, a cry of pain emitting from her throat as Erik's fingers tangled into her hair, pulling her head back so she was forced to look straight at him.

"I said look at me," he growled, an ugly snarl forming, making the horrible distortion of his face even more horrifying to behold.

"No, please… Please, let me go!" Christine cried out. She tried to pull away, but shrieked as his fingers pulled her hair.

"Are you afraid, Christine?" he sneered at her.

"Yes!" she cried. "Please, let go! Let go!"

"You were supposed to accept this!" he shouted, the rage in his voice filling the room. "You've seen this!"

"No, no! Please…please!" She tried to jerk away again, but he held fast to her.

He moved so his face was very close to hers. She felt the sudden urge to be sick. A scream came from her again and lashing out in a desperate attempt to get away, she kicked him, her foot squarely meeting his side. His grip loosened slightly on impact and she took advantage of this to wrench away from his grasp and run for the door.

But Erik was too fast, he caught her, grabbing her arm and pulling her around. "Not so accepting any more! I was wrong about you. You've grown up and changed your mind about looking past this face!"

His inexpressible anger frightened Christine. His fingers were bruising her arm. "Please! You're hurting me!"

"And you are not hurting me? You wanted to see this, didn't you? You brought this upon yourself!"

With this he pushed her down and she fell in a heap, sobs rising in her throat. She lay where she had fallen, crying helplessly, covering her face with her hands. But they were pulled away and again her eyes met that horrible face.

"You will look at me! Please, feast your eyes!" And then Erik laughed. A horrible, cold laugh that chilled Christine to the bone. Now she knew he would hurt her. He grinned evilly at her. "Would you like to touch as well?"

Before she could cry out her fingers were on his face, her nails scraping his deformed flesh. There was blood. Christine's head spun, the sight was making her sick. She became so weak that he was holding her up, but this didn't stop him, her nails continued to scrape against his skin, she could feel it under them.

"You feel this, Christine? Oh yes, it's real, you can feel for yourself. How does it feel, Christine?"

"Please," she whimpered, her final plea.

To her surprise he let her go. She collapsed completely, lying flat on the floor. Her body racked with sobs and she made no attempt to rise. She watched Erik's feet as he stood.

She heard him speak, so softly she could barely hear. "You have destroyed everything, Christine. I hope you're happy."

He left her then, the door closed behind him. Christine curled into a ball as tightly as she could, hugging her knees fiercely, with her eyes tightly shut. She began to hum madly. She tried to force the horrid image from her mind, but it was no use. Her image of Erik had been tainted, ruined. She could not look at him again.

………………………………..

Erik stumbled blindly away from the drawing room, somehow reaching his own room where he collapsed against the door the moment it was closed. The grief he felt was unbearable. His anger was spent now and there was just pain. It was almost physical the sharpness that stung every bit of him. He had suffered much in his life, but this was a different kind of pain. He had spent the happiest day of his life with Christine. He had imagined more days like it, had imagined true happiness… And it had been torn away from him. This was a different pain, a horrible pain…

The phantom sat there, his fingers clutching his face, feeling the blood that Christine's nails had extracted. He was filled with such utter hatred of himself. He had always felt this, but he did not prefer to sit around brooding over it. But what else could he do now? When his one chance of happiness had been destroyed…because of his face!

No! It wasn't supposed to happen this way! She was supposed to accept him… But he had been wrong, so wrong. He felt broken, he felt that he would die. He had practically loved the girl and now he had hurt her, made her fear him. It was all over now, it was all over. It had barely even begun.

He couldn't continue. He didn't deserve to live, he didn't want to live anymore. Erik had truly believed that Christine would save him, but she hadn't. She had killed him.

He couldn't stand it, the more he thought about it, the more pain it brought. He couldn't take it anymore…couldn't stand the pain that his whole life had been. He had had one day of happiness and he didn't deserve that much.

Erik realised he was crying, giving the impression that he was indeed crying tears of blood. It was gruesome, and so very fitting.

Slowly, and after many minutes, Erik uncurled himself from his position. He was done with this pain. He took a deep breath, taking back the control he kept over himself. He became stone, no emotion could touch him now.

He went to his wardrobe and removed a mask from within it. Tying the ribbons securely, he moved to the door, knowing that things had to be this way. He had no choice.

Erik walked calmly back to the drawing room. Putting his ear to the door, he listened and heard nothing but silence. He opened the door and looked down at Christine, still lying on the floor where he had left her. Examining her more carefully he could see that she had either fainted or completely exhausted herself and fallen asleep.

He felt nothing as he lifted her into his arms, nothing as he left the house with her. There was still nothing when he placed her in the boat and took her across the lake. This entire time, she did not stir, but slept calmly, dried tears on her cheeks, her hair tangled and wild from where he had pulled it. But Erik felt no remorse, he felt nothing now.

Many passages and stairways later, Erik had arrived back to her dressing room. He placed her on the divan and looked down at her.

And he no longer felt nothing. It took all his strength to remain standing as another wave of agony hit him over what he had done to her and what she had done to him. He would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life, he had exposed her to a horror she hadn't deserved to see. She had been so innocent… What had he done?

He forgave her for what she had done. He knew that he was the one to blame. It didn't matter really, he deserved nothing less and his pain would be over far sooner than her nightmares would end.

Christine looked peaceful in her sleep. She was spared the horror of his face for this moment at least. Erik looked down at her, memorising everything about her.

After several moments, Erik knew he had to leave, she could wake at any time and she could not see him with her. He then repeated the old trick he had shown her so many years ago, a red rose appearing in his hand. Reverently, he laid it beside her.

Erik moved back to the mirror and flipped the switch to open it. Looking back at her one last time he whispered, "Goodbye, Christine." And then he was gone.

…………………………..

A/N: Thanks so much for reading. Please review!


	4. Epilogue

A/N: All right, this chapter was not updated as fast as I said it would be…but compared to the last update time, this was not so bad, hehe.

I'd like to sincerely thank everyone who has ever stumbled across this story and taken the time to read it. It means so much to me that people actually enjoy the things I write… To those who reviewed…Thank you. You guys are amazing.

I hope you enjoy the last chapter. However, the reader is asked to remember that a story such as this never really ends… Perhaps you can imagine the rest for yourself.

………………………..

Madame Giry whacked her cane on the ground and the corps de ballet immediately scurried to the barre of the practice studio where they were meant to be warming up.

Nodding to the pianist, Madame walked through the rows of girls, watching each of them in turn. She circled the room, commenting on turnout or sickling, or the many other things the girls managed to do wrong during their simple exercises.

It soon became obvious to her that someone was missing. She had always kept special watch on Christine Daae due to her past and her close friendship with Meg.

While Miss Daae was prone to clumsiness, missed steps, and vacant expressions, she was not as prone to missing rehearsal all together. Lateness, however, was still a possibility. They had just begun.

So Madame Giry waited as she watched and corrected her girls through plies, tendus, dégagés, and rond de jambes. However, by the time they had started fondues she could wait no longer.

Her daughter was at the end of the barre in the back of the room. Nonchalantly, she went to her. Catching Meg's leg in her side extension, she asked very quietly, "Where is Miss Daae this morning?"

Meg's eyebrows creased in confusion and she automatically looked around. She hadn't seen Christine before warm up had started, but would have thought she would have shown up by then. She shrugged. "I don't know, Maman."

"Find her, will you?" Madame Giry released her leg.

Meg nodded and quickly left the room. She padded through the halls of the opera, alternating between a jog and a polka. Unsure what to think of Christine's absence, she hoped that her friend was not ill.

Finally reaching Christine's dressing room, Meg reached up and knocked lightly on the door. "Christine?" she called gently.

The little ballerina waited, shifting her weight from foot to foot, but received no answer. After another moment, she knocked again, louder this time. "Christine, are you in there?"

Too impatient to wait any longer, she tried the door and found it to be unlocked. She stepped inside, noting Christine's absence from the room. She looked down and frowned at the chair in front of the vanity which had been knocked over. Beside it was a red rose, rather withered from lack of water.

Meg righted the chair, then picked up the rose. She looked at it for a moment curiously then placed it on the vanity. To her right she caught her reflection in the full size mirror. She looked at herself for a moment then shivered, caught by a sudden chill. She left the room and closed the door behind her. Meg made her way slowly back to the rehearsal room, still frowning. It was unlike Christine to not show up at the opera at all without letting her know. Usually she at least sent a note…

It worried her.

When she had made her way back, she told her mother that she had failed to find Christine and then went back to the barre. She hoped rehearsal would end quickly that she might find Christine. For some unexplainable reason, her mind went back to her friend's story of the Angel of Music…and her promise that he would never harm her.

Perhaps she should have told her mother…

………………………………

Christine was not seen in the Opera for three days after that. The space she had left was not noticed by the patrons and luckily not noticed by the managers. Messieurs Debienne and Poligny were much too busy putting their affairs in order for their imminent retirement to think about a chorus girl who had never had much attention paid to her in the first place.

Christine, indeed, was at home, taken ill in her bed. She felt she had not the strength to rise. She had discovered that being frightened so severely had physical consequence on her frail person.

After she had awoken to find herself back in her dressing room, she had panicked. Screaming upon finding the rose beside her, she had dropped it and knocked over her chair in her hurry to remove herself from the opera entirely.

It seemed to her that the death's head chased her all the way home. Arriving there she could do nothing but collapse into tears. Those horrible moments played over and over again in her head and she was quite unable to sleep that night for fear it would come after her once she closed her eyes.

At first, it was impossible to make that face and Erik one person. She had separated them in her mind. Erik was her friend, the man who had taught her to sing. That face…she did not know where it came from. It had appeared before her in all its horror and now might never leave her.

Christine could not go to the Opera the next day. She could not go back there ever perhaps. So she sat at home thinking about what had occurred, for she could think of nothing else.

She recalled something that the death's head had shouted at her. It had said that she had seen this face and was meant to accept it. But what did that mean? She had never seen such a horrible image in her life.

But…if the death's head really was Erik's…. He remembered her as a little girl. She remembered people screaming in terror. She had not seen what they were screaming about. Erik thought she had.

The death's head was his. She slowly came to realise what that meant. Christine knew the stories that circulated through the corps de ballet. Though hardly ever invited to join their conversations, she always heard what they spoke of. The ghost of the opera, who played such tricks and appeared at random to frighten stage workers, had a death's head. There could not be a second being that possessed such a feature.

Erik was their Phantom.

The idea of it filled her with horror once again. He was not a ghost, not the Phantom the corps idealised him to be, but he existed! It was true. And she had trusted him…

But when she thought of Erik…. Erik! He had been so good to her. Then the death's head appeared and he had changed so horribly. He had hurt her…something she was sure he would never do. Yet she could still feel his fingers twisting into her hair, wrenching her arm…

The second day away from the Opera was also spent mostly in bed. Slowly in her mind, she struggled to put Erik and that awful face together. It was…it was Erik's face. But she had never seen such a thing! Was it possible for a person to be so deformed?

She cried more, but she began to think more and more about Erik. Despite the rage in his voice, there had been so much pain in his eyes… She…had hurt him. She realised this slowly, but it was true. He was disfigured horribly, that was why he lived below the Opera. And she had screamed in horror at the sight…just as everyone else had surely done all his life.

She missed Erik. He had been so good to her, she had begun to value his friendship above everything else in her life. Even Meg could not be her friend as Erik had grown to be.

"Oh, God…what have I done?" Christine whispered pitifully to her empty room. Erik was her friend…and she his! And she had treated him in such a way… Now she would surely never see him again. It could not possibly be the same between them if they were to meet. She wasn't sure if she even wanted them to to.

Christine was frightened still, afraid of his reaction to her revulsion of his face. But despite her fear, she felt awful for what she had done. Erik had been her friend…

………………………………..

Christine returned to the production at last, pale and not speaking to anyone, on the same day as the arrival of the new managers.

Rehearsal was interrupted by Monsieur Poligny, who was flanked by Monsieur Debienne and two strangers. After a struggle for attention, he was finally able to make his announcement.

"Ladies and gentleman, as has been previously noted, today is the day that we turn over the lease of this fine establishment to new management. It is my pleasure to introduce you to your new employers, Messieurs Richard and Moncharmin."

There was some sparse, random clapping from a few, as everyone looked over the two men who now owned the Opera company.

La Carlotta took it upon herself to make it immediately well known that their job would for the most part consist of groveling at her feet. Shoving Carolus Fonta aside, much to his chagrin, she struck a pose before the new managers and cleared her throat loudly.

Poligny started and stepped forward, "Forgive me, senora." He turned to Moncharmin and Richard. "May I present our lead soprano, La Carlotta."

The diva made an elaborate curtsy before the two men and smiled demurely. "My managers, it is a pleasure."

Moncharmin, the more amiable of the two, seemed impressed with Carlotta's display. "The pleasure is ours, madame," he said, kissing her hand.

Carlotta smiled airily and Moncharmin continued, "Perhaps you would grace us with an aria, if it wouldn't be too impertinent of me to request such a thing." He chuckled.

"My manager commands," La Carlotta answered with another smile and curtsy.

This seemed to be too much for Richard however who pulled Moncharmin away from the soprano and said, "Really, Armand, we don't have time for this. There is work to be done here, papers to be signed…"

Moncharmin waved him off. "It will only take a moment, Firmin."

Carlotta had already made her way to center stage, everyone else had fallen back to give her enough room. One look from her was enough to make them move. Christine and Meg had hurried away to sit downstage left and watch.

With a signal to the conductor in the pit, the introduction of The Jewel Song began.

Christine wasn't listening to La Carlotta. For the upteenth time that day, her mind wandered and she stared blankly out into the house. She started suddenly, grabbing Meg's arm.

"What is it?" Meg whispered, turning away from Carlotta to look at Christine.

Christine stared up at Box Five. She was certain she had just seem some movement within it. After a moment she released Meg's arm.

"Nothing," she said quietly.

Meg smiled gently and took Christine's hand, turning her attention back to center stage, still ignorant of what had occurred between Christine and The Phantom of the Opera. Christine tried to pay attention as well, but she felt an odd chill and could not shake a feeling of trepidation as Carlotta sang.

Carlotta had moved throughout most of her aria, making the most of the limelights. She was now settled upstage where she continued to milk her aria much to the delight of Moncharmin and much to the annoyance of Richard who was anxious to get to work.

Suddenly, there was a loud snap. The sound of metal wheels grinding together much too fast began. Carlotta screamed and was saved by a male dancer just before a large, painted backdrop fell to the ground with a large crash exactly where she had been standing.

The entire company jumped to their feet, screaming and yelling. Many rushed forward to see La Carlotta, who had fainted. Amidst the uproar the younger ballet girls made their voices heard.

"It was the Phantom! It was he who did this!" "Yes the Phantom must be here! Look what he's done!"

Upon hearing this, Christine latched onto Meg's arm tightly, tears springing to her eyes. Erik had done this… Why? Because of her?

It was several minutes before Carlotta was revived. It was several more before the managers, both past and present, were able to regain some amount of order as Poligny continually shouted for a man called Buquet.

This man, Buquet, finally appeared and was approached by Poligny. "Buquet, what is the meaning of all this? That backdrop could have seriously injured La Carlotta! We've narrowly avoided a complete catastrophe."

Buquet, obviously a simple man, looked slightly bewildered and shrugged his shoulders. "Begging your pardon, monsieur, but this weren't my fault at all. I was standing backstage when it fell down, sir. With God's my witness," he added quickly.

This answer was followed by a chorus of ballet rats shouting about the Phantom once again.

"Now that is quite enough!" Richard shouted out suddenly. The company fell silent and Moncharmin hurried to La Carlotta's side. "Madame, I'm so sorry that this has happened."

Carlotta stopped fanning herself suddenly and glared at Moncharmin. "You are sorry?" she asked incredulously. She stood suddenly. "What does this apology do for me? Nothing! Will you do anything about these things happening? No! You are as bad as them with their ghost!" she shouted, gesturing wildly at Poligny and Debienne. "Well! Sorry is not good enough this time! You shall not have La Carlotta!"

With that finished she huffed and stormed away. There was silence for several seconds, finally broken by Poligny. "Well then, gentleman…It seems you have everything under control. Unfortunately, we must away. We will see you tonight!" And with that, he and Debienne all but ran from the theatre.

Moncharmin stared after them, his eyes wide. He turned to Richard desperately, motioning for him to say something.

After a pause, Richard cleared his throat. "Well, this is rather inconvenient isn't it?" He spotted Monsieur Reyer, the director of music, and called him over. "You there, who is the understudy for La Carlotta?"

Reyer looked very pale. "For…for La Carlotta?" he stammered. "Monsieur, Carlotta has no understudy!"

"No understudy?" Richard exploded.

Moncharmin hurried over to him as the entire company became chaos once again. What would they do? How could the show go on?

Then, through all the rabble, a small voice made itself heard.

"I can sing it, sir."

The company fell silent.

Richard took a step toward Christine. "What did you say, mademoiselle?"

"I said…I can sing it, sir."

The ballet chorus gasped in unison and immediately began whispering behind their hands at the insolence of Christine Daae.

Even Meg was surprised. "Christine, what are you doing?" she asked.

Christine stood up and faced Monsieur Richard as he approached her. "_You _know La Carlotta's role?" he asked disdainfully.

"Yes," Christine answered without hesitation. "I can sing it."

Richard laughed then, but immediately grew serious as he turned back to his partner. "Now we don't have time for this, Armand. If we have to cancel…"

"Maybe we should let her sing, Firmin," Moncharmin interrupted, looking curiously at the defiant chorus girl.

"Yes," Meg said, standing up beside Christine. "Let her sing for you."

The chatter among the petite rats resumed at this bold statement.

Firmin stared at the two girls, slightly shocked by what he was seeing. Finally he sighed and put his hand to his forehead as if he felt a headache coming on. But he conceded. "All right, all right…Sing for us, Miss Daae."

There was sarcasm in his voice, but Christine didn't care. She was going to sing The Jewel Song. She knew she could do it. She had done it for Erik many times… He had loved listening to her sing… Perhaps this would slow his anger? Christine would not be afraid. Refusing to be intimidated by the crowd around her, drawing confidence from everything she could remember Erik teaching her, she walked to center stage. She was going to sing it as she never had before. She would sing it for Erik, for her father…and for herself.

…………………………..

Needless to say, Christine Daae was accorded the role of Marguerite. The curtain went down that evening on the most beautiful performance of Faust anyone could remember. She had brought the audience to their feet. Seemingly overwhelmed by her success, she fainted into the arms of her fellow singers.

Once revived, it took Christine nearly an hour to reach her dressing room as the halls had been packed with well wishers. After greeting what seemed to her like hundreds of people, graciously accepting compliments and blushing at proclamations of love, she finally reached her quiet, little room.

Inside was a veritable garden of all different kinds of flowers. Massive bouquets in vases or in stands on the vanity and on the floor. They were beautiful, but Christine ignored them.

She went carefully to her mirror, looking in it as if she meant to see past it. After a few moments she whispered, "I sang for you tonight, Erik… I gave you my soul and I am dead…"

She turned away abruptly, crossing towards the center of the room, she collapsed on the floor, tears threatening her. "I'm sorry I'm frightened," she said out loud. "Oh God…"

Christine cried then. She cried because she had brought Paris to its feet that night. She cried because she was afraid and confused. She was afraid that Erik was listening and afraid that he might not be.

When she had composed herself, she turned back to look in the mirror again.

Her eyes widened. Very slowly, she stood and went to the mirror. Crouching down, she picked up a red rose that had been placed in front of. She was certain it had not been there before.

She stood and stroked its petals. Then she looked back up at the mirror. Her fingers brushed against the glass.

"The Angel of Music…"

FIN

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A/N: Please review! Thank you.


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